


You-You-Me

by Authoress



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Language and Crude Humor, M/M, a smattering of praise kink bc i have no self control, handjobs and blowjobs, lance doesn't get out of the closet, truth or dare meets spin the bottle meets seven minutes in heaven, welcome back to middle school everyone!, what happens in that closet stays in that closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7346533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The paladins introduce Allura to the age-old Earthling game of truth or dare. Keith shares unwelcome knowledge about his sex habits. Hunk may or may not eat a sock. Somehow, sexual tension and relief ensues. Also, there are jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You-You-Me

**Author's Note:**

> i blame marianas trench for the amount of memeing that goes on in this fic, i personally had nothing to do with it.
> 
> in other news, hi voltron fandom! i'll be joining you from now on. please take care of me.

 

Unsurprisingly, it’s Lance’s idea, an obtuse and not even remotely clever attempt to get Allura to lay one on him. More surprisingly, Allura falls for it.

“This is an Earth…game?” she asks, kneeling down and joining the circle. 

Their track record with ‘Earth games’ was not good. Monopoly had led to Hunk desperately clinging to the red and orange spaces, Pidge’s dominance of the entire purple and blue end of the board, and bargaining between him and Allura for access to information and technology aboard the ship in exchange for immunity when she landed on his spaces. At one point, Pidge rained a shower of five-hundred dollars bills of fake money over himself and Keith had to grab Lance in a chokehold to keep him from attacking Pidge. Shiro, somehow, ended up in jail almost the entirety of the game with a horrified look on his face.

The next offender, the Altean version of Risk, resulted in Allura’s control of at least three Altean continents against Pidge’s strongholds across the board. Lance and Keith spent almost the entire game battling between each other on a single continent with missions to destroy each other. Hunk, having learned his lesson with Monopoly, made snacks for the paladins and Allura. Shiro was wiped from the board in the first hour of the game.

(“Am I a bad leader?” Shiro had asked Hunk despairingly, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes Hunk had never been aware he possessed. “I’m a bad leader, aren’t I? I got wiped from the board by not only Allura, who would be expected, but Pidge as well and he’s like, _fourteen_.”

“There, there,” Hunk had said. “At least that’s better than, er, jail?”

Shiro groaned.)

“Yeah, a game for pre-teen girls with a crush on a cute boy,” Keith says, rolling his eyes. “One guess who the swooning idiot is and the unattainable beauty is.”

Allura taps her chin. “Well, Shiro is the most aesthetically pleasing of the paladins by my estimate, so…he’s the ‘cute boy’?”

Pidge throws himself to the ground by Allura’s side, laughing. “No one’s gonna fight you on that one, Princess, but uh…let’s just stick to the obvious. Lance is an idiot, and you’re a beauty.”

(“Like I want to hear that from a pint-sized brain on a stick!” Lance yowls from across the room. Pidge, wisely, ignores him.)

“There aren’t really any rules to ‘truth or dare,’” Hunk says, “but we’re here to ensure that Lance doesn’t pull any funny stuff on you…and, okay, whatever, we want dirt on each other.”

Allura glances around her as the paladins settle into a circle on the floor. Shiro for manhandling Lance if things got serious, Keith for scathing remarks and distractions, Pidge to poke holes in Lance’s ego, and Hunk for comic relief if things got serious. The Protect-Allura-Against-Lance’s-Libido Squad were all assembled.

(“Not that we really have to worry about Allura’s virtue,” Shiro mutters to Pidge. “I saw her kick an entire Galra door in.”

“She _is_ ten thousand years old,” Pidge agrees, nodding sagely. “Plus, there’s the wrath of Coran if anyone lays a hand on the Princess.”

“But then again…” Shiro says, sighing.

“…This is _Lance_ we’re talking about,” Pidge finishes with a scowl. “Allura needs all the help she can get.”)

“I can _hear_ you talking behind my back,” Lance grumbles. “You’re—you’re not even doing it behind my back! You’re trashing me right in front of my face!”

“Sit down, big man,” Keith says, shoving Lance’s shoulder down and following suit. “This was _your_ idea, after all.”

“I’m unappreciated in my time,” Lance sniffs and places his Bayard in the center of the circle they formed. “And since it’s my turn first, I spin!” He gives the device a terrific whirl, watching it slow and chanting _Allura Allura Allura_ under his breath.

It lands squarely on Hunk. 

“Oh no,” Hunk says. “I remember how this game was played back at the Garrison, and I am _never_ looking through Lance’s personal effects ever again.” He points at Lance. “You are one sick dude.”

“Can’t kinkshame the shameless,” Lance says, crossing his arms.

“Whatever,” Hunk says, shrugging. “I choose truth.”

Pidge is on it like a Galra missile. “Nastiest thing you’ve ever thrown up,” he says.

Groans around the circle. Pidge shrugs. “Look, Lance was going to make it nasty no matter what. I just thought I’d take it as far away from ‘uncomfortably sexual’ as possible.”

Hunk, taking the question seriously, strokes his chin. “Well, it wasn’t the worst thing I ever threw up, but the most interesting by far.” He grins. “That Garrison meatloaf tastes better coming back up than it does going down.”

Lance and Keith gag in unison. Allura’s making her _Father give me patience_ face and Shiro has the look of fatherly disapproval down pat. Pidge cackles at the chaos he brought about and high-fives Hunk around Allura. 

“Next, please,” Shiro says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing, boss,” Hunk says, spinning the Bayard. This time, it lands on Shiro, who tilts his head to the side and points at himself.

“Dibs on this one,” Keith says, raising a hand. Looking Shiro dead in the eyes, he asks, “Who is your favorite out of all the paladins?”

“Pidge,” Shiro says without hesitation, mercilessly cutting down both Keith and Lance who had been jockeying for his approval and attention since they first rescued him.

“Second-favorite?” Keith asks, voice strained.

“Allura,” Shiro says.

“ _Allura isn’t even a paladin!_ ” Lance cries. 

Smirking, Shiro sets the Bayard spinning. 

Pidge is next. “Dare!” Pidge declares, crossing his arms. “Do your worst.”

“Take off your glasses,” Shiro suggests. “I don’t think any of us have seen you without either glasses or a visor on, not for very long at least.”

Pidge rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what the obsession is with seeing glasses off their owners. We don’t look that different.” He pulls off his glasses, shakes his head and runs a hand back through his hair, blinking his eyes open.

“Oh,” Keith says, echoed by Allura’s “Oh my!”

“ _Um_ ,” Lance says.

“Dude,” Hunk says. “You look _pretty_ different.”

“Seems we have two beauties in our midst,” Shiro says, smiling. 

“What?” Pidge says, unaware of how his eyes spark across the group, rich caramel light and dancing. It wasn’t like his glasses hid his eyes, but without them, it was very obvious that Pidge had the elegant eyebrows to match his eyes set in a soft face and against creamy skin. 

“Pidge is a _looker_!” Lance squawks. “The fuck? How is this fair? Allura’s stunning, Shiro’s hot, Keith’s got those _eyes_ , and Pidge is secretly a babe! Why are me and Hunk left in the dust?”

“Nope, just you,” Keith says. “Hunk’s got kindness, humor, and bravery to make him the best catch out of us all. You’ve got…what? Arrogance? A flat ass?”

“My ass is not flat!” Lance roars, grabbing a fistful of Keith’s shirt and getting in his face.

“Oh yeah? Then why do your _ass bones_ leave dents in my thighs every time you get knocked into my lap?” Keith snaps, shoving his forehead against Lance’s.

“Asses don’t _have_ bones, moron!”

“Do!”

“Don’t”

“Do!”

“Don’t!”

“D—geh!” Shiro gives each of the boys a love tap to the backs of their skulls, bashing their heads together. They sink to the ground, groaning. 

Pidge coughs into his hand. “Anyway, moving on.” He spins it.

Keith glares at the Bayard, as if he could light it on fire or blast it across the room with the force of his gaze alone. “Truth,” he says, tightening his crossed arms. “Like hell I trust Lance to pick a dare for me. I can feel you slobbering at the chance to humiliate me.”

“You sure?” Lance says, looking over his nails. “The great and magnanimous Lance will give you another chance to reconsider.”

“Fuck you,” Keith says.

“Honey,” Lance says. “There are other ways to humiliate you than with a stupid dare.”

Keith has time to widen his eyes before Lance grins. “Ever jacked off in your lion?”

“ _Why_ ,” Hunk says, despairing. “Why would you ever ask—”

“Take it back,” Pidge begs. “I don’t want to know the answer; the mental image alone is burning my retinas. I need brain bleach, immediately. Allura, can this ship wipe a few tics of memory?”

“Um,” Allura says.

“Why do you want to know?” Keith asks, eerily calm. “Want to take a look at my feed?”

“Haha, very funny,” Lance snarls, back in Keith’s face. “Just admit it, you’re a nasty—”

“Yeah, I have.”

“—filthy, perver—wait, _what_? You actually _have_?”

Keith grins, jutting his chin out. “What, not man enough for the task?”

Lance sputters, cheeks flushed. “That’s—that’s—Blue is _sacred_! I’m not going to defile her like that!”

“Oh really?” Keith says. “Red and I are closer than ever. We have no secrets between us. Why do you think our synch rate is the highest of all the lions?”

(“Actually,” Shiro says, “Pidge has the highest—” Keith shoots him a look that would make Zarkon tremble in his boots. Shiro shuts up.)

“Wh-whatever!” Lance says. “I could _totally_ jerk off in Blue if I wanted to!”

“Uh-huh,” Keith says, leaning back and raising an eyebrow.

“Alrighty!” Pidge says, clapping his hands together. “I’d just _love_ to watch this dick measuring contest until kingdom come, but let’s get the show on the road, shall we? Oh, also—Keith? I’m never going to be able to look Red in the eyes again. Voltron’s holy purity has been tainted forever.”

Keith shrugs and twirls the Bayard and finally, to Lance’s glee, it lands on Allura.

“Oh,” Allura says. “What do I do now?”

“Just say that sweet word ‘dare’ and find out, milady,” Lance says, winking slowly at her, then wincing as the motion agitates his sore forehead. Behind Lance, the rest of the paladins make ‘T’ shapes with their hands and mouth ‘truth.’

“Um…truth?” Allura says.

Unfazed, Lance sighs whimsically. “So you’ve chosen the path of truth, Princess. Very well, but know you must not lie to the asker of the next question. To do so would be to break the rules of the game and to put a curse on your family for generations to come!”

“Ask the question, flat ass!” Pidge calls, hands around his mouth.

Lance flips Pidge off, returned by double middle fingers from Pidge. Clicking his tongue, Lance turns back to Allura. “What I wish to know,” Lance says, “is who out of all your noble paladins, do you favor the most? Who is the most trustworthy, the most handsome, the one your heart longs f—”

“Shiro,” Allura says, also without hesitation. Lance chokes on his own spit. Shiro and Allura exchange fond glances.

“Like father, like mother,” Hunk whispers to Pidge.

“Drinks?” Coran says, stepping through the door and offering a bubbling, neon pink liquid in the Altean equivalent of champagne flutes. 

“Please,” the group groans.

The first drink settles them. The second revives them. By the third, Pidge can’t feel his fingers and toes and Hunk keeps laughing at the stupidest things. Shiro is the one to put it all together, out loud at least.

“These drinks are fermented!” he exclaims. “This is…this is alcohol!”

“Way to go, fearless leader,” Pidge slurs, collapsing against his chest. “Wow, no wonder Allura picked you as her favorite.” He attempts to make a growling noise and paw motion in the air.

“Oookay,” Shiro says. “How old are you again? What the hell is the drinking age in the Garrison?”

“Old enough to know my way around wine of glass,” Pidge snorts, thumbing his nose.

“Keith,” Shiro says. “Would you mind, uh, rescuing Pidge?”

“Oh, so _now_ you need me?” Keith says. He slouches so far his shoulders come up to his ears. He swirls his flute of…whatever…moodily, sloshing the liquid against the sides of the glass. “You think you know a person…”

“Keith,” Shiro says. “I like you better than Lance.”

“Well,” Keith says, clearing his throat. “Well. I _suppose_ I could take Pidge off your hands.” To Pidge he says, “Hey Pidge! Look! Hunk’s figured out how to generate energy to power your laptop from the green goop!”

“ _Where_ ,” Pidge growls, locking onto Hunk and racing after him with a surprising amount of coordination for someone as inebriated as he was.

“Thanks,” Shiro says, scratching the back of his head. “I owe you one.”

Keith grunts.

Shiro squints over Keith’s shoulder. “Uh,” he says. “How many glasses of that stuff did Lance have?”

“Four or five,” Keith says. “Why?”

“He’s flirting with a column,” Shiro says. 

“Are you—” Keith groans, turning around. Lance smooths back his hair and makes an obscene gesture with his hands.

“ _Fucking_ kidding me,” Keith swears, marching off in Lance’s direction.

“So,” Lance slurs to the poor, abused blue column. “You ever seen a paladin take the pilot’s seat, if you know what I mean?”

“Hey asshole!” Keith calls. “The humans are over here! At least wave your dick at something that moves!”

Lance clicks his tongue. “I’ll be back for you,” he says, stroking the column. “Buttercup over there wants to steal my date.”

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Lance calls back at Keith, planting his hands on his hips. “Mad that I can get a hot lady and you’re stuck alone with your hand and a mecha cat?”

“You still on that?” Keith says, crossing his arms. “If you want to watch me so bad, I’ll record it next time. Moan extra loud, just for you.”

Lance is flushed again, but this time at least, Keith has the decency to turn a little pink, too. “Are you really so eager to show off?” Lance snaps. He pouts harder at Keith.

Keith pouts even harder back. “Oh, I’m sorry, who asked about my sex habits?”

“Exhibitionist creep!”

“Horndog!”

“Lionfucker!”

“ _Column_ fucker!”

“Shitty hair!”

“Shitty pilot!”

“Oh, it is _on_ ,” Lance says. He sticks his thumbs in Keith’s mouth and pulls at his cheeks while Keith bares his teeth and pulls Lance’s hair. In a true show of his horrible balance, Lance manages to push Keith over Hunk’s passed-out form on the ground, sending them both toppling over Hunk and joining him on the floor.

“I have an idea,” Pidge says, having recovered from his drunkenness and now sporting a splitting headache and a vengeance against anything that screamed too loud or moved too fast, also known as Lance-and-Keith. “Why don’t we lock you two in a closet until you work out your _unresolved sexual **fucking** tension_?”

“Pidge said ‘fuck,’” Lance says, awed.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Shiro says, as if he’s figured out the answer to a puzzle. 

“Or seventy,” Pidge says sweetly.

And that’s how Lance and Keith find themselves shoved head-over-heels into one of the supply closets on the castle-ship and securely locked in. 

“We’ll come and check in on you later,” Pidge says. “Unless we forget.”

Lance, starting to recover from the short-term inebriation of the Altean drink, whistles. “Pidge is scary when he’s mad. It’s kind of hot. Y-you know. If I was into guys.”

“Oh please,” Keith says dryly, heading straight into Headacheville along with Pidge. “You’re so completely and obviously closeted that it’s embarrassing to watch you flirt with girls.”

“Um, yeah,” Lance says. “We’re both stuck in this closet.”

“ _Not_ ,” Keith groans, then sighs. “Not this closet, you imbecile. The secret gay closet. The 100%, all-natural homosexual closet. The I-like-sucking—”

“Hey man, fuck you!” Lance says, trying his best to strangle, punch, or otherwise maim Keith in the darkness of the closet. “I’m straight! Boobs are where it’s at! Girls are great!”

“Oh yeah?” Keith says, taking an elbow to the side. “Then explain why you’re so fascinated with me jerking off in my lion.”

“Ow!” Lance says when Keith steps on his foot. “I’m not— _fucker_ —fascinated with you!” He drives his shin into Keith’s knee and they both swear.

“Well it’s your fault we’re—guh—in here!” Keith snaps.

“No way!” Lance protests. “You started the fight!”

“You started the _game_!”

“So I could kiss Allura!”

“Then why’d you drag _me_ in?”

“I didn’t!”

“Then why am I— _haaa_.” Keith makes a noise that definitely does not sound like pain. Lance freezes up, unsure exactly where his knee had gone to cause such a sound, but also acutely aware that his knee _was_ at fault. All of Lance’s mind goes carefully, carefully blank. 

(Or, at least, it tries to. The more he tries to focus on _not focusing on_ Keith’s noise, the more it replays in his head, the echo down a cavern or the needle jumping over a record, playing the same few notes over and over.)

Experimentally, he wiggles his knee.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Keith snaps, savage and raw, but also as winded as Lance feels. Lance takes a moment to collect himself.

He’s breathing hard, sweating hard. It’s from the drink, he thinks. Alcohol always made him sweat, but with Keith in such close proximity, he’s even worse. A droplet glides down his cheek. He can feel Keith’s breath cooling his forehead with every puff. 

His knee is tucked securely between two very, very warm columns he identifies as Keith’s legs. Keith’s back is bending over a pile of towels or something, arching him up enough for Lance to see a sliver of pale skin under his shirt and the white of his neck. The very, very distracting white of his neck. Lance remembers that neck. He used to compare the skin of his top five girl crushes at pilot school and Keith’s and none of them could beat him. Yet another win for Lance’s archrival. How infuriating.

In this position, though, he feels frustrating would be a better word for it. 

“I need to move,” Lance says, voice low. _When_ did his voice drop so low?

“Don’t move,” Keith says. “Just…don’t.”

Lance feels the frustration building, clogging his chest, clogging his throat. “Look,” he says. “I can’t just _stay_ here.” He doesn’t define where _here_ is, because here is…here is…

“Oh my god,” Lance says. “I’m touching your dick.”

“Thanks Einstein,” Keith snaps. “Congratulations on a job well done.”

“I’m _touching_ your _dick_ ,” Lance repeats, because the reality is having trouble sinking into him. 

“Do you want me to touch yours so we’re even?” Keith offers, sarcasm dripping.

Despite his _extremely obviously joking_ tone, Lance yips in surprise and backs away, wrenching his knee from between Keith’s legs, but not before pressing in just a tad and hearing Keith make the weakest, most delicate keening sound Lance had ever heard. It tingles down his spine. It makes his hair stand on end. Keith slaps a hand over his mouth, but it’s too late.

“Dude,” Lance says.

“Don’t. Say. Anything,” Keith warns.

“ _Dude_ ,” Lance says.

“Would you like me to stick my knee into your crotch?” Keith snaps. “See if you make the same kind of noise _then_.”

“Would you quit offering to feel me up?” Lance asks, a little hysterical.

They fall quiet. 

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs.

“’S okay,” Lance murmurs back. “I’m sorry for, uh. That.” He’s still trying to put together pieces of _Keith_ and _noises_ and _skin_ and the feeling of Keith’s dick pressed against his knee, the knowledge that _he_ dragged that noise from his rival-partner-brother, as unintentional as it was. 

_Boobs_ , Lance chants in his head. _You’re into boobs. Hourglass figures, a nice ass. Long hair, preferably black or dark brown. Pale skin. A bad attitude, a bit of bite. Fierce eyes—_

Convincing himself that he’s straight would be a lot easier if Lance would stop picturing Keith when he thinks of his ideal woman. 

“Can you do laundry?” Lance asks Keith.

“What,” Keith deadpans. 

“Nevermind,” Lance says. He peers across the closet at Keith, eyes adjusted to the faint light-blue glow. Keith’s cheeks are darker than the rest of his skin. His arms are crossed impossibly tightly, body language completely closed off. He was giving off the ‘nothing to see here, move along’ message, but—Lance gulps—when he looks down at Keith’s pants, there’s a definite tent down there that says ‘hello, please pay attention to me.’

“Does it feel good?” Lance asks before he can get his mind back online and force sensible words out of his mouth.

“Which,” Keith says, deadpan. “You kneeing me in the crotch or jerking off in the lion?”

Lance swallows. “Both?”

Keith’s posture eases up just a little. “You already know the answer to the first one,” he murmurs. 

Lance does. The knowledge burns across his cheeks and up his ears and down his neck. He may or may not be giving off steam.

“I can tell you the answer to the second, if you really want to know,” Keith says, pushing off the wall. “You can’t tell anyone, though.”

Lance swallows again, but this time his throat is so thick, he almost can’t. “Not a soul,” he says, voice cracking.

“I have to whisper it,” Keith says. He braces his arms against the wall on either side of Lance’s head. His eyes are clear, focused, a far cry from the color in his cheeks.

“Okay,” Lance says, starting to feel his mind drift off, his spirit leaving his body. But he’s grounded to the present the moment Keith’s lips brush his ear.

“Only after a good fight,” Keith says. “Like the first time I learned how to use Red’s magma blaster. Or when we first formed Voltron. Otherwise it’s a meaningless reward. I don’t feel up to it if I haven’t done a good job.”

“Oh,” Lance says in a tiny voice.

“Don’t talk,” Keith says. “Just listen.” Lance can hear him lick his lips.

“I wait until we get back into our hangars,” he says. “I’ll tell Shiro I want to run a check of my lion’s weapons, or her defenses, something like that.” 

Lance remembers that. It had prompted him to do the same, making sure he didn’t fall behind in maintenance of his lion. He feels twin surges of satisfaction that he was actually _ahead_ of Keith in something and something else that curls his gut and makes him shift in place, knowing Keith was doing _that_ while Lance fixed up his lion.

“I unzip my jumpsuit,” Keith says. “I only wear a shirt and boxers underneath it, so this next part isn’t difficult. I pull out my cock.”

Lance twists underneath Keith at the word ‘cock.’ Keith shushes him gently, one hand lighting on his shoulder. Lance is starting to get uncomfortable, but not in the way he expected. His own dick wants to join the conversation.

“I pull out my cock,” Keith says. “I start out with light touches. I’m hard before I even touch myself, just from the adrenaline and the anticipation. I feel myself, up and down, up and down, still so painfully light. Then I’ll wrap my hand around my cock and stroke hard. I like to be squeezed tight.”

Speaking of tight, Lance’s jeans—

“I like to rub the head,” Keith says. “And to squeeze my balls. But better than that…” He pauses, lets a soft exhale blow against Lance’s ear. 

“I like to finger myself,” he says.

Lance groans.

“You don’t know what that’s like,” Keith says. “Heterosexual wonder boy. You don’t know the tension of wetting your finger with spit, the feeling of sliding beneath your seat and pressing _in_. It’s so tight; I can imagine sticking my cock somewhere like that. Or having someone stick their cock in me.”

Lance bucks against him, arching up in an attempt to grind against Keith. Who cared about being straight. Who cared about being gay. Who cared about anything in between. The only things that mattered were Keith’s words against Lance’s ear, Keith’s body a hair’s breadth from Lance’s, and Lance’s need for _release_.

“I squeeze the base of my cock,” Keith says, speaking quicker now. “I won’t let myself come until I’ve fingered myself nicely. I can only do one without lube, but I still find that spot. I stroke it mercilessly, and then I pump the orgasm out of me, every last drop.”

Lance forces Keith back, but he doesn’t draw away. He presses himself against Keith, baring his teeth. Keith leans back, arched over the towels again. Lance’s knee finds Keith’s crotch again and Keith almost laughs.

“What are you doing?” Lance hisses.

“Answering your question,” Keith says. “Proving a point.”

“What _point_?” Lance spits.

Keith shoves his thigh against Lance’s crotch and Lance makes a choked sound, half strangled surprise and half strangled pleasure.

“That point,” Keith says smugly. “You’re not straight. You’re at least a little bit curious.”

“Great,” Lance says. “Thanks for figuring that out for me. Now we’re both hard and locked in this closet until Pidge deems us fit to join society again. What do you suggest we do?”

“We could think about Hunk puking—” Keith says.

“Oh _God_ ,” Lance says.

“—Or,” Keith says, “I could show you.”

“Show me _what_ ,” Lance says, but his eyes are already widening at the way Keith leans back, his body language opening, neck bent back to show more of that beautiful bare skin that Lance _wants_ —

“Give me your hand,” Keith says.

Lance does not know how to refuse him.

Keith has callouses on his hand. Lance thinks he can feel all the hours logged on the training deck, every minute Keith held a sword in his hands, every second he shifted his grip just a little, whether in fear or concentration or _exhilaration_ —

Keith unzips his pants. The sound is small, but in the closeness of the closet, Lance bucks, hand jerking back in Keith’s grip.

“Shh,” Keith says, calming. “I won’t force you, but I also won’t offer twice.”

Lance stills, hand going loose in Keith’s grip. He watches, because he cannot look away. Keith guides his hand down beneath his zipper, cupping his…cupping his…oh god, cupping his _dick_. 

He’s breathing hard. He knows he’s breathing hard. Keith’s hand is trembling over his own trembling hand, brushing over the surface of Keith’s boxers and making Keith shift beneath him, almost a squirm. 

“Lightly,” Keith says. “Like you’re a fucking explorer on a new planet. Tease— _nngg_ , yeah, like that.”

Lance doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s got his own equipment, but turning Keith on is like trying to figure out Galra tech—even with a step-by-step manual, it’s downright impossible unless you were someone like Pidge, and _okay_ , _metaphor ending_.

He runs his fingers over the length, stiff and straining against Keith’s boxers. _I did this_ , Lance thinks distantly. _It was me_. The tip of Keith’s dick is a little damp through the boxers, and when Lance’s light, exploratory touches linger there, Keith’s mouth falls open.

Lance dares to look up and witness a flustered, painfully turned-on Keith. He’s pink high in his cheeks and sweating, mouth moving to shape words or sounds but self-control fighting both of those down. His teeth are white, straight, and bared at Lance for his staring. His lips are red.

“You hypocrite,” Keith hisses. “You’re a bigger pervert than me, sitting back and watching my face.”

“That’s not—” Lance protests. “I’m just—”

“Shut up and touch me,” Keith says, leading Lance’s hand beneath his boxers to make contact with skin. 

He’s warm. He fits comfortably in Lance’s hand. His head is wet. Lance loses his chill almost immediately.

“ _Dios mío_ ,” Lance babbles. “I have no idea what I’m doing. What if I’m not good? What if I do something wrong? What if—”

“You won’t do anything wrong,” Keith says. “You _can’t_. I’m here with you, guiding you.”

Keith leads with defense. He always plays it careful but aggressive, chasing after what he wants. Once ignited, he cannot be put out. He took on Zarkon all on his own, because once Keith sinks his teeth into something, he never lets go. The greater the danger, the greater his daring. Lance thinks about how much daring it must have taken to take Lance’s hand, to lead him to touch Keith so intimately. 

_I must be really dangerous_ , Lance says. _Or else, he’s latched onto me and I’ll never be able to get rid of him_.

Lance tightens his grip around Keith, just a hair tighter than he likes. Keith throws his head back, then curls forward into Lance’s shoulder as Lance strokes him, biting his lip to keep from making a sound. Lance can feel Keith’s quivering throughout his body.

 _I hope he hasn’t latched onto me,_ Lance lies to himself. _I hope I’m not stuck with this one._

Keith’s hips buck and Lance squeezes the base of his dick, remembering what Keith had said.

“You like to earn it, don’t you?” Lance says, face on fire and feeling like the least sexy thing alive. “So earn it.”

“Yessir,” Keith slurs. Keith never called anyone but Shiro ‘sir.’ He lets his mouth falls open and lets every whine and sigh escape directly into Lance’s ear.

“Please,” Keith whispers. “I need it. I need you, Lance.”

Okay. Okay, maybe Lance isn’t straight. Whatever. It’s fine. He’s bisexual. He can totally deal with that. He can totally deal with Keith begging in his ear, leaning against him, hand over Lance’s, showing him just how Keith liked to be worked. He’s fine.

(He is so not fine.)

Luckily, Keith was prepared for Lance-sexuality-crises. He grabs Lance’s other hand and messily shoves two of Lance’s fingers in his mouth, sucking on them and tracing them with his tongue. Some teeth find their way into the mix and Lance’s brain short-circuits. He can only focus on the _wet_ and _hot_ of Keith’s crotch and the _wet_ and _hot_ of Keith’s mouth. Actually, he might pass out.

Keith wiggles out of his pants, letting go of Lance’s hand in his mouth to yank his boxers down as well. Then he’s guiding Lance’s spit-slicked fingers down, down to press against his entrance. Lance hesitates. This is…a lot.

“It’s good, yeah?” Keith says. “It’ll feel so good, for both of us. Promise.”

“I’m,” Lance swallows. “I’m holding you to that.”

Keith does not disappoint.

Lance’s thought process as he slides his finger in is _I can’t believe I’m doing this,_ then _holy shit I’m doing this,_ then _why is my finger in here, my **dick** should be in here_ , then _would it feel good if I did this to myself?_ Keith groans.

“You’re so…you’re so _tight_ ,” Lance says, hardly aware of how his words are straight from the script of a porno. (He only watched gay porn a few times out of _curiosity_ , okay? He had to know what the hype was about.)

Keith doesn’t even reply, just pants like a wounded animal into Lance’s ear. Lance moves his finger around inside Keith, unsure of what he’s doing until he brushes against something that makes Keith’s back go ramrod straight, as if he had been struck by lightning. Experimentally, Lance rubs at the spot and Keith cries out, coming in Lance’s hand where his grip had gone slack.

It catches Lance by surprise. His hand is covered in warm, rapidly cooling _stickiness_ , and his finger was still up Keith’s ass. Keith flops back, spent, and Lance pulls out of him. Lance looks at his hand covered in cum, and has that same thought. _I did this_.

“Was it…was it good?” Lance asks as Keith cleans himself up and pulls his pants back up.

“Was it—are you seriously asking me this?” Keith asks. “Just then, I—” He searches for the words, fails to find them, and instead waves his hands in the air. “Came so hard I nearly exploded?” he settles on.

“Oh,” Lance says. “That’s good, then. Uh. I think.”

“Yes,” Keith says, nearly laughing. “Yeah, Lance. You did a good job. _Such_ a good job.”

The praise goes through Lance’s body, tingling him from his ears to his toes, and of course, his dick, reminding him that it was painfully untouched. Lance resists the urge to cover himself. Keith looks at the tent in his jeans openly.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” he offers.

Lance lowkey thinks that if he was on the receiving end of the treatment he had just given Keith, he really _would_ explode. But YOLO, right? If he was going to die, it might as well be from a super orgasm from the hottest guy Lance had ever seen besides maybe Shiro.

“Okay,” he squeaks.

He waits for Keith’s hands on him. He does not expect Keith to drop to his knees.

“ _Oh_ ,” Lance says. He may be speaking in monosyllables for the rest of his life if Keith is— _yep okay he’s definitely going to suck him off okay that’s fine it’s all fine_.

“Scared?” Keith teases, working Lance’s zipper down.

“ _How are you so calm about this_ ,” Lance says. “I’m—okay, I’m at least _20%_ gay, but this is kinda _mega_ gay, do you feel me, so of course I’m a little _nervous_.”

“I won’t bite,” Keith says, leaning against Lance’s thigh and looking up at him. “I haven’t let you down yet, have I? You can trust me.”

It was hard for Lance to connect Keith-the-paladin with Keith-the-boy-on-his-knees, but Lance trusted him. Of course he trusted him. You didn’t fight aliens in space and combine into a mind-melded fighting mecha without trusting someone at least a little. Keith was headstrong and impulsive, but yeah, _hell_ yeah Lance trusted him.

“Just—if it weirds me out, you’ll stop, right?” Lance says.

“Of course,” Keith says. “But it won’t.”

Keith’s hands on him are expert, none of the fumbling idiocy Lance had displayed. Yet another area of life that Keith was absolutely trouncing him in, what was new. Oh wait, but if he was confident, did that mean—

“Hold on,” Lance says, squinting at Keith. “Have you ever blown someone before?”

“Dude,” Keith says. “Remember what happened last time you asked about my sex habits?”

Lance supposes he’s referring to them fighting no less than three times and getting locked in a supply closet, but Lance is also excruciatingly aware that it had also led them to handjobs, fingering, and blowjobs, so really, Lance should ask about his sex habits more often.

“Shut up,” Keith says, as if reading his mind.

“I didn’t even _say_ anything!” Lance protests, but then Keith is rolling his eyes and leaning in and Lance forgets things like rivalries and arguments and higher level brain functions.

Keith’s mouth is unbelievable. It can’t even be real. He doesn’t even touch Lance much, just traces the shape of Lance’s dick with his tongue. He flicks the head of Lance’s dick and Lance lets out an inhuman noise of pleasure. Lance’s hands fist in Keith’s hair, not pulling or pushing him, just…holding.

“You ever been blown before?” Keith asks with a smirk, that dick-eating _fuck_.

“ _No_ ,” Lance says, scowling. It’s hard to be intimidating when Keith’s lips are still brushing his skin. “I’m a bona fide virgin, right hand wonder, just me-myself-and-I, you smug little _shit_.”

“Really,” Keith says, eyebrows rising in surprise. “The way you hounded anything that batted its eyelashes at you, I really picked you for a ladies man who knew his way around a bedroom.”

“Really?” Lance asks.

“No,” Keith says, snort-laughing. “Have you ever even held hands with a girl?”

“Are you going to tease me or blow me?” Lance yowls, wanting to kick Keith in his perfect teeth but also chronically unable to get his hands out of Keith’s hair.

Keith answers by wrapping his mouth around Lance and sucking _hard_.

Lance comes apart. This beat flying, this beat _beating Keith_. It was, literally, the best and most intense thing he’d ever experienced. Lance can’t hold it in. His legs quake and his nails scrape Keith’s scalp as he comes the hardest he’d ever come in his life. Keith swallows, because Lance’s life, at this point in time, is unbearably _awesome_.

Keith wipes at the corner of his mouth and leans back. “Wow,” he says. “That was even faster than I expected. I didn’t have to use any tricks on you.”

“Say what you want, dickbreath,” Lance says, collapsing back against the wall and groaning. “I’m in afterglow heaven. My legs are turning into jelly. I’m starting a new religion just to worship you and your mouth.”

“Are you always this gross after sex?” Keith says.

“Dunno,” Lance says. “You’re my first.”

Keith stands up. His face is doing this weird thing, the way he looks when he loses in the simulator or whenever the Galra lay hands on his lion. It’s joined with something sad-looking. It doesn’t suit him at all.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says quietly. “I shouldn’t—it was your first time and I _knew_ it, I shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow. “Blown me to kingdom come? Shown me that there’s more to this world than boobs? Been the best first time ever?”

“I—” Keith says, but Lance cuts him off by grabbing his cheeks and squishing them together.

“Uh,” Keith says. 

Lance kisses Keith’s fishlips, just a peck, but voluntary and daring coming from him. He lets Keith go and tugs at the neck of his shirt.

“I mean,” Lance says. “If you had a bad time, we can just forget—”

“It was good,” Keith says. “I would do it again.”

“Oh,” Lance says. Keith’s doing that _fierce eyes_ thing again. “Maybe we should start with the basics?”

“Hand-holding?” Keith suggests, half his mouth quirked up in a smile.

Lance points at him. “Fuck you,” he says. “Kiss me.”

“Is it ‘fuck you’ or ‘kiss me’?” Pidge asks from outside the supply closet.

The door slides open, revealing Pidge, Shiro, Hunk, Allura, and Coran. Who had heard all of that conversation, possibly more. Lance considers grabbing Keith’s knife from his belt and slitting his own throat. Keith stands there, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“How, um,” Keith says, clearing his throat. “How much did you hear?”

“Just that last bit,” Hunk says. “We don’t know what happened in there and we don’t want to know.”

“But we’re happy you’re getting along now!” Allura says, clapping her hands together. Behind her, Pidge and Hunk make quotation marks with their fingers when Allura says ‘getting along.’

“I’m never playing another game again,” Keith grumbles. “Not even if the whole universe is at stake.”

“Whatever you say, sugar,” Lance says. “I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

Keith glares at Lance. Lance smiles sweetly back.

“I hate you,” Keith says.

“No you don’t,” Lance says in a sing-song voice. “Later, pumpkin. Angelface. Cupcake. Apple—”

Keith draws his Bayard and Lance wisely takes off. 

“You’ve created a monster,” Pidge says, crossing his arms behind his head. “Hope it was worth it.”

Despite himself, Keith smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “It was.”

**Author's Note:**

> the monopoly and risk stories are true ones. come to my house for game night, it's always an adventure.


End file.
